“I consider that the sufferings of present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed to us” ~Romans 8:18
I have spent almost seven months in this country. They have been some of the most meaningful months of my life, but even the most memorable moments they have offered seem oddly distant right now. Could it be because this past week has had the intensity and news-output of a decade? And all the while the Coronavirus is raging, life is so still here in Charlottesville. The air feels clean, the squirrel community is as vibrant as it is on any given day, and the few people who are out and about are talking and smiling. Thank God they are.
This is not the first time I have been by myself in a quiet Charlottesville, and for all the tragedy of the present moment, I was worse off back then. I did not go back to Sweden for Christmas break, so apart from going to Gloucester to stay with a friend for a few days and celebrating Christmas with a wonderful Baptist family, I was mostly on my own here. I was on my own, during a time I probably shouldn’t have been. After Christmas, through the first few days of 2020, I had a pretty hard time. I think a combination of loneliness, anxiety, and baggage full of stuff I should have dealt with ages ago caused me some kind of a breakdown.
I am embarrassed to talk about it because nothing
actually happened like things are happening now, but then, the selfish mind is not always responsive to reality. At times, I could do nothing but lie on my couch, being genuinely afraid of all sorts of things. I know that sounds over-the-top, but that's what I was: afraid.
I am sorry to dump something this bleak on the blog, but I think there might be something of value here. This breakdown namely occurred just days after my conversion. Granted, it wasn’t a chariots-coming-down-from-a-heaven-set-on-fire kind of conversion, but over the days leading up to Christmas, I came to resign to the truth of the most shocking proposition ever made; a proposition I had previously done much to ridicule: the proposition that Jesus is Christ, that He was dead and buried, and then walked out of the grave. It was very much a resignation – I could no longer find excuses to object to faith so full of beauty, goodness, and truth. And Lord knows I was scrambling for excuses.
I was then, naively, dismayed to find that this newfound presence of grace in my life didn’t completely fend off the anxiety that awaited me about a week later. Why wasn’t Jesus working His magic on me? ME! Had I converted for nothing?! Looking back, I am embarrassed by my reaction, knowing that He did, in fact, work His magic on me. This magic, called grace, came in the form of gratitude. Even on the most painful of those wintery nights, I still knelt by my bedside to pray. Out of all the things I could have said, and had said (even when I didn’t believe in God, I was never slow to blame Him for my problems), I thanked Him for all the blessings in my life. Craziest of all – I think I actually meant it. For at least a moment during this dark night of the soul, He rid me of fear, through gratitude.
Fear, friends, is not a harmless condition. Thomas Merton writes that fear is “inseparable from pride and lust”. Being constantly afraid reveals an over-concern with the self, and obsession I have been severely guilty of, and still am. I am not suggesting that prayer can fix all mental health problems, but over Christmas break, it did help me.
Our God can credibly assure us: be not afraid. He can do so credibly, because whatever we are afraid of, whether mental monsters or concrete catastrophes, He knows them. He knows them and takes them seriously. He is not a Stoic Sage, who is never upset by anything. Our God weeps with the mourners. He is upset with injustices. He loves us so much that He willingly died for us. Because He launched Himself into the barren wasteland of ultimate suffering and came back, we need not be afraid.
It is good to remind oneself of this right now, although I am not silly enough to think that I can say anything original amid the growing Corona-panic. I am writing this primarily by way of gratitude. I arrived in this country a lost skeptic, pretending to be a profound seeker. I will leave this country a believer in the risen Christ. I know that God used you, all of you in Catholic Hoos, as vessels of His grace. I owe you so much.
If, over the coming months, you find yourself in doubt, in agony, at loss or in fear, please remember that God, through you, changed my life. He can, and will, change yours as well. Keep calm, express love, be patient and kind, be prudent and helpful, take things incredibly seriously, but be not ever afraid.